


A Game of Poker

by Taurnil



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Drunkenness, Established Gimleaf, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied Sexual Content, Legolas is a snappy bitch, M/M, Multi, Naked Men, Nervous Faramir, Protective Gimli, References to Homophobia, Strip Games, Strip Poker, Éomer being a bit of a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taurnil/pseuds/Taurnil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this Challenge from Library of Moria: </p><p>"Faramir is invited to Legolas’ Ithilien residence for the celebrating the Elf’s 2,532nd birthday. Towards the morning, the host and a handful of the sturdiest guests, including Faramir, set to playing a card game, an Elven version of strip-poker. The rest, I expect, needs no further explanation on my behalf."</p><p>After all my dalliances with Hobbit Slash I felt like I owed myself and the world some good ol' Cannon Gimleaf!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Poker

**Author's Note:**

> Not fully based on this though as I don’t think Legolas is that old. But apart from that I like to think I’ve done my best, any excuse to get Gimli naked I wholly approve of! ;-P 
> 
> Also please don’t ask me to explain the rules of this game, I don’t understand them myself. If you wish to play it contact Gimli. 
> 
> (Set roughly two years after the war of the rings.)

“...Left of the dealer starts,” Legolas finished. Faramir looked blankly at him having understood absolutely none of the rules the elf had just spent almost an hour explaining. He knew he had already asked many questions; hence it taking so long, but still had at least ten more. Legolas did not seem aware of Faramir’s turmoil and had started dealing out the cards face down on the table. He glanced over at Gimli who had picked up his cards and seemed to understand.

“Don’t worry lad,” Gimli whispered. “You’ll pick it up.” Faramir nodded and picked up his cards.

This whole week was something he thought he could have done without. He hadn’t even known it was going to be Legolas’s birthday until recently. Why would the elf need to celebrate anyway? Wasn’t he sick of birthdays by now? Éowyn had insisted that they attend; saying that since they were closest to North Ithilien there was no excuse they could come up with that Legolas would not be able to disprove soon after.

“Besides,” She had said. “Do you not want to see Aragorn again? I thought these men were your friends.”

“They are my friends Éowyn,” He replied. “It’s just... the elf.” Faramir did not like to admit that he had never been overly fond of Legolas. Aragorn and Gimli were good company and had similar interests to him; they had read many of the same books and enjoyed similar activities. Whereas he never seemed to have anything in common with Legolas. All he seemed to be interested in was elvish music and poems he had never heard before nor particularly wanted to hear. Not to mention the elf’s annoying habit of pointing out the obvious and randomly singing when there was not real cause for it.

Faramir did decide in the end that he was being harsh. Aragorn and Gimli thought very highly of Legolas, so why shouldn’t he? Besides, Gimli had pretty much lived with the elf now for almost two years. If the dwarf could handle Legolas’s habits for that amount of time then Faramir could handle them for a week.

“So what are we playing for anyway?” Aragorn asked looking at his cards. “It wouldn’t seem much like an elvish game if we are playing for money.”

“Indeed you are right my friend,” Said Legolas. “Usually we just play for fun, for the honour of winning.”

“Where is the motivation in that?” Gimli asked raising an eye-brow. Legolas blushed at this, his ear-tips twitching a little. Faramir now suspected that Gimli was already familiar with the game and knew what the players aim was.

“Well...” Said Legolas. “I suppose ‘usually’ wouldn’t be the right word.”

“Then what is the ‘usual’ prize?” Éomer asked.

“Usually,” Legolas looked up at his companions with a deviant smile. “It is a game played in the evenings accompanied with fine, potent wine.”

“The stars shine,” Éomer pointed out. “And you are decidedly less than sober. As are we all.” Éomer emphasised his point, probably not deliberately, by getting up to refill his tankard at the same time Aragorn refilled his wine glass.

“Speak for yourself...” Gimli muttered, always amused by how quickly men and elves could get drunk compared to his sturdy race. “Tell them elf. Tell them what the point of the game is.”

“There is never really a winner as such,” Legolas continued. “The aim is not be the worst at the game.” Faramir stiffened and tried to remember the names of the ‘higher’ cards. “For each time someone comes last in one round, it is custom for him to remove one item of clothing. The game ends when one player is completely... well... I’m assuming you understand.” Legolas looked round at the expressions of his companions. Aragorn had his left eye-brow raised with his ‘typical elves’ face, Éomer had a strange smile which seemed to imply that he was up to the challenge, while Gimli was looking at Faramir trying hard not to laugh. Faramir simply looked terrified.

“Well I am game,” Éomer said with confidence, breaking the silence. Aragorn raised both eye-brows at this and turned to his friend. Éomer knew, as they all did, that Legolas and Gimli were indeed ‘more than friends’ and as far as the king of Gondor knew Éomer had never been overly comfortable with it. Last year the King of Rohan had refused to dress around the pair when they had travelled and now he was willing to play a card game where the main objective was to get someone completely nude.

“Are you sure my friend?” Aragorn asked smirking.

“Indeed,” Éomer replied. “There is not shame here, nothing to fear. It is just a game after all.”

“Very well,” Said Aragorn turning back to his host. “I shall play by your rules if that is the tradition.”

“Aye,” Said Gimli. “It’ll probably be more amusing with these rules than without them.” Elessar did notice Éomer shift uncomfortably in his chair at this comment. Still, his uncomfortable shifting was nothing compared to how Faramir looked.  He said nothing. “Well?” Gimli asked after a while. “Are you game?” Faramir turned away, looking at the door. Perhaps Éowyn was still with Arwen and Lothíriel. Maybe he could claim she had wanted an early night and that he could not start playing now.

“It’s alright if you do not want to play,” Legolas said with a small smile. Faramir turned back to the table and saw that all eyes were on him. He could not back out now. Damn elves!

“Fine,” He said eventually, releasing a breath he did not know he had been holding. “I’ll play.”

“Alright then,” Legolas said, laying down three new cards on the table. “Let’s begin.”

*******

“So does that mean a birch three is higher than an oak three?”

“No but an Oak-Ent beats a Birch-Ent,” Legolas explained for the twentieth time. Faramir blushed and slowly reached for the ties of his tunic. He really wished he had escaped when he had the chance. Gimli had saved him a few times, placed his bets higher when he could tell from Faramir’s twitching eyes that his cards were useless. But now the dwarf sat only in his breeches and did not seem willing to lose just to save his friend from embarrassment. That was several rounds ago now and Gimli, who Faramir knew had a very eidetic memory, was probably following the pattern of the cards as he had not lost since.

Faramir looked round at his companions. All players sat bare-footed, but the King of Gondor wore the most. Éomer had shed his outer tunic, now clad in a thin undershirt that opened slightly revealing his thick chest hair, and Legolas had removed his cloak.  Faramir did not understand the elf’s game. He had at first done very well, making sensible bets and being able to call everyone’s bluff (Faramir assumed it was some sort of elvish mind trick.) It was only recently that the elf had slowed down, his concentration seemed to have left him for some reason and a few times Aragorn had to shake him back into the real world.

Faramir did not know why the elf had suddenly become so flustered. He studied the elf carefully. His eyes were no longer focused on his cards but instead strayed to...

Faramir began to understand.

The elf had lost all interest in the game and was now studying the half-naked dwarf that sat besides him. Gimli’s appearance was very different from the rumours he had heard about dwarves as a child. There was very little fat on his body; instead he was bulky with large muscles cradling his chest and strong arms. His chest was coated in a thick layer of dark-red hair that appeared almost fuzzy. Faramir smiled to himself and threw off his tunic with confidence; there was no way he was loosing this game.

“Well elf,” He said rising to replenish his ale. “Deal another round.”

“Hum?” The elf muttered. “Oh, right yes!” Legolas jumped slightly and began to shuffle the cards. “Would you like me to go over the rules again?”

“No, no. I think I’ve got it now.” Faramir smiled and re-filled Legolas’s wine glass. Legolas promptly downed the drink, no longer bothering to count how many he had had the evening. Not that it mattered; it was his begetting day after all.

The round was not as violent as the others had been. Legolas folded early on, most likely so he could go and hunt out another bottle of wine. Faramir was still confident, but Éomer had that look in his eye so he decided not to continue. He backed out leaving only the King of Rohan against the King of Gondor. Éomer sat back in his chair and revealed a set of ‘oak’ cards following the numbers two to six. Aragorn raised an eye-brow, his face portraying no relief or fear. Eventually he smirked and reached for his cards.

“My apologises my friend,” He said casually and turned his cards over. He had all four ‘saplings’ and a high Ent. Éomer stared at the cards with disbelief and silently cursed his enthusiasm. He blushed at the expectant stares of his companions as he pulled his undershirt over his head leaving his chest as bare as Faramir’s and Gimli’s.

“There!” He said eventually, throwing it on the floor next to his shoes. “Now shall we continue?” His discomfort was clear to all the other players but it was not the gazes of Aragorn and Faramir that caused it, despite being the ones most amused by his forfeit. “Stop staring at me like that!” Éomer snapped at the elf. “It may be your birthday or begetting day or whatever you elves call it but it does not give you permission to gawk at me!” Elessar and Faramir turned to Legolas who had in fact lost interest in Éomer and was now running his pale fingers through his beloved partner’s beard.

“What are you implying?” Said Gimli sternly, coming to defend his lover before Legolas even began to understand Éomer’s accusations. “Are you really so vain and arrogant you think my beloved would stray to you just because you are shirtless?”

“If your ‘beloved’ is perverted enough to stray to you in the first place then-“

“Well hold on,” Faramir interrupted. He did not know whether this was coming from too much ale or Éomer’s personal beliefs but he did not want the game to turn into an ugly brawl either way. Especially since Gimli looked ready to throw the first punch. “Think about what you are saying Éomer. Do your eyes stray to every woman you see?” That did shut Éomer up for a bit and Faramir was proud for coming up with such a valid argument when he could barely remember how to stand.

“I agree with Faramir,” Said Aragorn coldly, glaring at Rohan’s king. “Legolas has done nothing to provoke this abuse from you!”

“Abuse!” Éomer cried, rising to his feet. “You accuse me of abuse? I have said nothing unjustified.”

“Unjustified!” Gimli stood, his eyes meeting Éomer’s, dwarven passion clear within them. Aragorn began to panic, just a little bit. He did not want to defend Éomer but neither did he want him to get hurt and seeing as Gimli was less drunk, and quite a bit stronger, Éomer didn’t stand a chance against him.

“That’s enough!” He said in a powerful voice he usually saved for his throne. “Sit down the pair of you!” Cautiously the man and dwarf did as they were told, lowering them slowly as neither wanted to back down. “This is supposed to be a celebration; we will not turn it into a common tavern-brawl!” He turned to Éomer. “Although I do suggest that you keep your prejudice to yourself.” Éomer laughed.

“I am not prejudice,” He said with a little too much confidence. The king of Rohan slumped back in his chair, folding his arms and smiling smugly to himself. “The elf and dwarf can do whatever they want, just so long as they keep it to themselves and their eyes off me!” Legolas snorted rather loudly. “Something funny elf?”

“Well yes I think so, now that you mention it anyway.” Legolas’s somewhat light-headed mind seemed to have caught on to Éomer’s accusations and judging by the darkness that had cast over his beautiful green eyes he was not going to stand for it. “Firstly because you think you have the right to tell me what I can and cannot do in my own home.”

“How was I-“

“Saying that my lover and I should ‘keep it to ourselves.’ This is my house and I govern this region. If I wanted to I could climb on this table and fuck Gimli right here!”

“Legolas!” Aragorn hissed, moving the wine bottle out of Legolas’s reach. Faramir watched on, unsure if he disapproved of Legolas’s language or crudeness.

“And secondly,” The elf continued, giving Aragorn a sharp glare. “That you would think that my eyes would stray to you when I have everything I want sitting to my left.” He gestured towards his dwarf who looked both flattered and uncomfortable. “ _That_ is a man worth staring at, not some weak, desperate horse-lord!”

“Watch your words elf!” Éomer stood once more, with enough speed and force to knock his chair over onto the floor and the table forward.

“Calm yourself my friend,” Aragorn said, standing up as well, preparing to hold Éomer back if he had to.

“Why should I?” Éomer shrieked. “You accuse me of prejudice and then let him say whatever he wants to me?”

“I spoke nothing but the truth,” Legolas retorted. “It does not matter if you are uncomfortable with me ‘gawking’ because I have no desire to look at you. But you’re so vain and pig-headed that you’re still offended when you hear that.”

“I’m desirable,” Éomer said. “I have a fine wife. If you were desirable then you would have one to, instead of having to find a dim-witted male to take place.”

Gimli stood. Faramir bit his lip and looked at the ground, wishing he was safely back in his home at Southern Ithilien with his beloved wife, not here sat in the middle of an inevitable fight. There was no way a dwarf was going to allow somewhat to call him ‘dim-witted.’  Faramir risked a glance at Aragorn who seemed to be thinking the same thing. Gimli’s true response however was far more complex.

“How dare you,” He said; his voice little more than a growl. “How dare you call my Legolas undesirable. He is the most beautiful creature to ever grace this world and you would be lucky to have him glance at you even for a moment. Every morning when I wake up and look at him I remember how lucky I am to be his. If he wanted a wife he could have one. He could even have your wife if he so wished. But no, we are both very, very lucky that- for some reason only known to the Maker himself, he wants me. So if you _dare_ say another bad word to my wonderful partner I will make sure it is the last word that ever comes from your scum-filled, prejudice mouth!”

Silence followed. Pure silence. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :-)


End file.
